246 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



while I did nothing. Next day we took different 

 sides of the river, and I started fishing at the head of 

 the rocky stream mentioned. My attendant, Lars, a 

 good-natured, simple-minded Norske native, was not 

 a regular fisherman, as I afterwards learned, and was 

 new to the use of the gaff. As I was getting out my 

 line at the very head of the current, and before I had 

 made a single cast, there was a drag : I raised my 

 hand and was fast in a heavy fish. 



Then came nearly an hour's wild excitement. The 

 fish ran up and down the pool, and finally out of it 

 and down to the next pool, hef ore I could get on terms 

 with him. Then, after that, the closing scene. 



The salmon was gradually brought to a shelving 

 bank of gravel obviously weighing anything between 

 30 and 50 pounds and lay exhausted on its side in 

 6 inches of water. I turned to Lars with eager ex- 

 clamation, and looked upon the fish as mine. But 

 Lars seemed paralyzed. He stood on the bank, help- 

 lessly gazing ; then finally, urged to effort by plain 

 Anglo-Saxon speech, made a thrust with the gaff, 

 missed the salmon, and broke the cast. I threw 

 down the rod, snatched the gaff from his grasp, and 

 just missed retrieving the fish as it wobbled slowly 

 back into deep water. 



There are moments when all one's philosophy is 

 required to face the situation when a severe strain 

 is imposed upon one's charity. For a moment I 

 looked on Lars with a bitter, though silent, hatred, 

 and felt that there were no adjectives in the English 

 language that could do adequate justice to the 

 occasion. 



Silence and tobacco gradually relieved the tension 

 and restored us both to a more peaceful frame of 



